No, This Isn't a Joke

I occasionally check our the blog of this woman living on a remote Scottish island because she is, well, rather eccentric and is facing her first pregnancy. An American, she has married a local and at times goes off on bizarre rants, especially when she gets on the topic of the "persecution" fat people endure and in the past compared the advice of doctors to lose weight to Nazi-era eugenics (she is also heavyset).

I called her on that one, and she removed the post - if she is really taken to task, she will simply shut down the ability to post comments. So I am linking to her latest post to offer my comments.

Michelle is ranting about the raid on the FDLS compound where now it has been found that more than half of the underage teen girls taken have either been pregnant or are either presently pregnant - in her opinion, it is wrong and abusive to the children since it will guarantee a life of sexual abuse from a secular society. She writes:

I believe that taking the FLDS kids and dumping them into our secular society, which is in love with teaching girls and women that it's ok to have sex outside of the sacred union of marriage, IS ABUSE.

Our secular society totally brainwashes women and girls into thinking that sex outside of marriage is good for them. We have plenty of diabolic organizations in our public school systems force-feeding this sinful, damaging nonsense to our wee little girls from grade school onward to graduation. It is sexually abusive to teach women and girls to load themselves up with harmful birth control chemicals so that they can be used and discarded by any number of selfish self-centered men who care nothing about these women.

No one can deny that a huge majority of the FLDS children who are now in the clutches of our secular society WILL BE THUS BRAINWASHED. Many of the very children that have supposedly been "rescued" from a life of (or a potential life of) sexual abuse will be forced into life of sexual abuse GUARANTEED. It is no longer a "possibility" that they "might" be sexually abused ~ now it is written in stone that a dreadful number of those FLDS boys and girls will be trained to engage in sex with multiple partners outside of marriage (emphasis original).

So, better to leave these girls, then, in an isolated compound where they are given in "celestial marriages" to middle-aged men and raped. And the teen boys are often found to have "sinned" and are thus banished from the group, so as not to challenge the position in this fucked-up society of the older men - with no money, no training, no skill set to become self-sufficient. Because, after all, it is guaranteed - indeed, "written in stone" - that they have only a future as pole dancers and whores.

For those of us who have not chosen to live in the isolation of Alaska and then the isolation of a Scottish island, as this blogger has, and instead live in this horrible secular society, believe it or not, we are doing just fine with raising kids to become educated about such things and learn to make the right choice. It's not abuse, chica. You have got a lot to learn before you birth that baby.

I am not defending the public school system; in fact, I rather dislike it, which is why I choose to send my kids to a Catholic school. But this simply takes the cake. And what is funny about it, it is indicative of a sentiment I have seen from religious types (Michelle is a extremely tradtional Catholic) in the news, namely that the FDLS are being persecuted for their "religious lifestyle" and shouldn't the government just leave them alone - not realizing that the same logic can be applied to an alternative lifestyle, like NAMBLA. Seems to me the only difference between NAMBLA and the FDLS is sexual orientation.

Oh, Snap!

NY cardinal criticizes Giuliani for taking Communion

Here is the official press release:

April 28, 2008

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: April 28, 2008

The following is a statement issued by Edward Cardinal Egan:

“ The Catholic Church clearly teaches that abortion is a grave offense against the will of God. Throughout my years as Archbishop of New York, I have repeated this teaching in sermons, articles, addresses, and interviews without hesitation or compromise of any kind. Thus it was that I had an understanding with Mr. Rudolph Giuliani, when I became Archbishop of New York and he was serving as Mayor of New York, that he was not to receive the Eucharist because of his well-known support of abortion. I deeply regret that Mr. Giuliani received the Eucharist during the Papal visit here in New York, and I will be seeking a meeting with him to insist that he abide by our understanding.”

At the risk of having to confess ths later, let me give His Eminence an official Noo Yawk salutation: F**KING A!!!!!!!!!! YOU'RE THE MAN!!!

And to Rudy: Whaddaya . . . stoopid?!

I can hardly wait to see the New York Post's headline on this tomorrow.

UPDATE: The New York Post has this article: GIULIANI CATCHES HOLY HELL

The Name Says It All

More proof that some people will pay anything . . .

My friend, Jack, told me this weekend about a new restaurant in Los Angeles called Flake. Guess what they serve?! Cereal! In fact, guess what is the only thing they serve? Cereal! 40 varieties, as a matter of fact. With thirty toppings. And nine choices of milk[1].

Is this really necessary? Me, I just don't get it, but maybe because that cold stuff I drop in a bowl and throw some yogurt on is not that exciting a food to drive to Los Angeles. And yes, let me over-generalize here, but I am guessing there is a certain group of men[2] for whom this would be considered fine dining.

[1] And you thought ordering at Starbucks was complicated. Can I guess? Whole, skim, no-fat, soy, chocolate, strawberry, goat, yak, and mother's . . .

[2] Guys who shop at Fry's religiously, bachelors, Dilberts, priests of a certain age, and any combination thereof. On the other hand, this might be a fun place for a kid's party.

Our Legs, Fit Your Legs, They Hug You, They Hold You . . .

Today in history, Benito Mussolini and his mistress, Clara, were executed and strung up in a Milanese piazza. I am always reminded of the story told to me by a fellow high school and NYU classmate about his grandmother who was there when it happened.

Her strongest impression? As it turns out, she got close enough to the bodies to see that despite the rough treatment by the crowd, there was not a single run or tear in Clara's stockings.

C'mon, only a woman in a rush to get ready for work on a Monday morning can appreciate that . . .

This Is Why I Need Supervision

Well, I asked Our Beloved Pastor if he was going to come by the home tour today, since we have a table to promote our church and school. He said, "I'll try . . .", which as any lawyer would know is shorthand for "not in our lifetime . . ."

This means maybe I can get away with a few signs to disturb the white, liberal Democrats that seem to gather at these events:

ST. JOSEPH CHURCH

YEAH, WHITE PEOPLE GO THERE TOO . . .

*****

ST. JOSEPH SCHOOL

OUR CURRICULUM IS 100% PLANNED PARENTHOOD FREE!

*****

MAKE A DONATION, GET AN INDULGENCE

HELL YEAH, MARTIN LUTHER WAS RIGHT!

*****

WE'RE THAT CHURCH

YOUR PASTOR WARNED YOU ABOUT!

*****

JOHN 6:32-69

WHAT PART OF IT CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?

*****

SORRY, THE ONLY "CHOICE" OUR KIDS ARE TAUGHT

IS BETWEEN THEIR WILL AND GOD'S

Another Great Idea

I notice we are about 100 yards away from the Port-A-Potties set up for this home tour. I cracked up the Digidaughter when I suggested she also put a sign in our front lawn:

PEE IN A REAL TOILET

$5

The Heat Does This to Me

It is going to be another scorcher in Southern California today, and as yesterday was my birthday and I am feeling older, and thus less charitable towards my fellow man, I've got a few observations to make. And it's my blog. So I can.

-- In 1980, I was an exchange student in the Soviet Union. I didn't get to Moscow because Americans were not allowed because we were boycotting their Olympics because the Soveits invaded Afghanistan. So why are we going to Beijing? I bet the lamas wouldn't fly planes into our buildings.

-- God bless white people as they can be sold anything. This weekend is my neighborhood's home and garden tour. It's $30 a ticket to march through select homes and gardens and see Sunset magazine-inspired decor. I think it's a rip off. But as my home is located between two houses open for viewing and so foot traffic must pass before my lawn, the Digidaughter has a raspberry iced tea and Kool-Aid stand going. Netted $76 just yesterday. Pimping the corgi puppy to help sell, and it works. I am proud of her.

-- And here's another entry for the blog Stuff White People Like: Renaissance Faires. It bothers me that some people come in medieval costume, which belongs to a completely different period of history. Also, in part, white people like participating in historical reenactments, although I am still waiting for someone to do the Black Death.

-- I don't understand "Murder Mystery" dinner theaters. Why is it that you never see a "Rape Mystery" or an "Arson Mystery" dinner theater?

-- Yesterday I was asked by the school principal to say a few words as to why I send my kids to St. Joseph's school at the end of Mass. Just before I got up, I thought to myself, how pissed would Father be if I stood up and simply said, "I send my kids to St. Joseph School because I'm a better Catholic than all of you", smiled sweetly, and sat down again?

-- I read this morning that on this day in history, the Pope excommunicated Elizabeth I back in her time. How could he do that if she did not have a valid Catholic Baptism? I also read that the foster families taking in those kids from the polygamous FDLS sect in Texas not to have anything in the color red around them. This is going to make sunsets and autumn hard . . .

Obscure Music Friday

A couple of weeks ago I made fun of a "Bacchanal" being hosted by a woman professor from my law school. Among its offerings was the promise of a "spoken word performance." Oooh. So in honor of such a concept, I present this little spoken word gem from an 80's band, Was (Not Was), known moreso for their song, "Walk the Dinosaur."

Song: Earth to Doris

Artist: Was (Not Was)

Why I Like This Song: It's friggin' weird and thankfully, very short. Maybe it's the off-key horn playing but I have always loved the line, She makes champagne out of 7-up and cheap wine . . . a chemist!

I Am Batman

Vertigo be damned, I so want one of these.

Not Your Usual Heartburn

Emmaeus.

The recent death of my classmate happened to occur on April 6th, the same Sunday when the Gosepl reading was the story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaeus. Meeting Christ, they don't recognize Him, but after He reveals Himself in the breaking of the bread, they say to each other, while He was with with us, were not our hearts burning?

At any memorial service, you hear the usual words said about what a great person the decedent was, how they touched so many lives, and what an effect they had on this world. Were not our hearts burning? I think even more important is to recognize that what you are memorializing was your opportunity to recognize Christ walking on the road next to you.

We are called to live a Christ-like life and we struggle with that, but there is the opportunity to look around and see where someone else might be doing just that! Of course, as Catholics we have the Saints as our models, for which we are grateful. But even they serve to be such after their deaths. Where are the Saints-in-the-making?

Were not our hearts burning? The death of a friend, especially one so young, should cause a moment in our busy lives to stop and reflect not upon their death but upon our lives and the lessons learned from them. But don't stop there. Recognize when someone is acting as Christ right now, walking right next to you. In fact, look for it. Emmaeus is a beautiful story but in some aspect it is bittersweet since the epiphany of the disciples occurs after He left them in human form (albeit leaving the Living Bread). I ask that the Holy Spirit help me to discern that heartburn that tells me, He is present, so I am not always mourning the death of a good person and thinking were not our hearts burning.

Kindness

First, my warmest thanks to Kit at By the Brook. Kit, those flowers were lovely and I want you to know, they played a role front and center at the memorial service tonight. I want you to know, Kit, I told my classmates about your comment, how there is a special bond with fellow law school students because we have been through the crucible together of the long hours, the hard work, and the challenge of the bar. They nodded - yes, that was a true statement.

And your thoughts and the flowers added to the beauty of the service. It was bittersweet to have a reunion with old friends for the reason of honoring our buddy, Stu. I want to thank also Steve Lurie, my classmate at Loyola Law School who organized this gathering and I was proud to see him in his LAPD uniform.

Rabbi Chaim Kolodny gave what he called a "non-traditional" prayer at the closing. He told us the story of Stacy King who was a top draft pick for the Chicago Bulls back in the day. The first game out King scored one - just one - point. In that same game, Michael Jordan scored his career high of 69 points. When later interviewed, King said it was a night he would cherish forveer. When quizzed about it, because, after all, he had only scored one point, he said, "Because it was the night Michael Jordan and I scored 70 points together." As Rabbi Kolodny then said, we thank Stu for giving us all the opportunity to combine our one point with his 69 in this game of life.

The death of someone as good and as young as Maj. Stuart Wolfer is a tragedy, but a greater tragedy occurs when someone dies and is not remembered. But to prevent that from happening, it must be more than simple recollections and thoughts. It must be appreciating how that person enhanced your life and doing likewise for others.

Kit understanding what it means to lose a law school classmate.

Steve organizing the event tonight.

Gretchen and Nina putting together the plaque we will send his widow, to let her know how much Stu touched our lives.

Big Jim, I will see you on the 21st and, dammit, we got that easel to stay still in the wind, didn't we?

Karl giving a eulogy for Stu that was touching and heartwarming - thank you.

Dean Gold establishing a drive to create an endowment in Stu's name whereby a scholarship will be set up at Loyola Law School for returning veterans.

And Stuart Wolfer showing us how to live a wonderful and good life, and sacrificing his own for all of us. Godspeed home, troop. I hope you got a laugh at seeing us all there tonight.

I Wish I Could Feel Differently

It is difficult to read, but between the words "deeply" and "ashamed" is the following:

". . . sorry about the pedophile priests who preyed upon your children, but the Vatican has no intention of disciplining or removing bishops, cardinals, and other members of the church hierarchy who knew of or even facilitated the reprehensible acts of which we are so . . ."

I saw this political cartoon in my newspaper this morning, which touched upon a discussion I was having last Friday during lunch with a fellow parishioner.

The sex abuse scandal has not driven from the Church. On the contrary, it has made me seek, find and appreciate the good people - both clergy and laity - that are fellow Catholics and they have inspired me to be a better Catholic, or at least make all attempts to be so.

However, I am constantly challenged by the absolute lack of consequences for the bishops and cardinals who knew of the abuses and did their best to cover it all up. While I can find hope in the Pope's comment, for me it is simply not enough. Even removing one of these men and placing them as chaplain of a weather station north of the Arctic Circle would be enough for me, although defrocking would be preferable in some cases.

I applaud His Holiness' meeting with the victims, but as the Sacrament of Penance teaches us, it is not simply a matter of confessing one's sins, but there is also the measure of penance that must be done. I believe that for people like Cardinal Law and Cardinal Mahoney, there will be an accounting at the end, and for the sake of their souls I hope it is in Purgatory and not Hell - but it strikes me deeply as unjust that nothing happens to them during their tenure here on Earth.

Indeed, perhaps I can be so bold as to suggest that any lack of action is a sin of omission, since I see in these men utter hubris and by not imposing some penalty, the Pope only aids in promoting that aspect of their lives. I often tell my clients that they need to have "skin in the game", meaning that if they are not committed to their case, how can they expect the Judge to be? Unfortunately, the cardinal's skin here is Teflon.

Not the Happiest Place on Earth, But Not Half Bad, Either

This weekend sees the Husband and Daughter on their final outing with the Indian Princess program, as Katherine has gotten too old and must "graduate" on to bigger and better things, like the Girl Scouts at St. Joseph's. However, when Dad and Big Sissy are away, the Boy and I try to do soemthing special and this weekend I finally succumbed to his standard pleas and went to Disneyland (last night) and Disney's California Adventure (today).

First, I really should buy an annual pass for me and the kids. Until this damned market turns, we are not selling our home so relocation to Tennessee will not happen within a year's time. We live a whopping 5 to 10 minutes from the park, close enough to hear the fireworks each night (I can set my clock by it), so it would make sense to have the ability to "just pop over", especially on some summer weekday night for a couple of hours when the kids are out of school. Do one ride, catch a parade, go home. Given the price of tickets, it would pay for itself within just 4 trips. And I would make sure I got my money's worth.

I have been known to be somewhat of a curmudgeon when it comes to Disneyland and I still am, to a certain extent. It's fun to go, but it takes effort and Disney's method of handling crowd control leaves much to be desired. Let's face it - they just let in too many damned people. And what I find particularly frustrating is a group of five adults with one 18-month-old in a stroller. Now, for anyone who has been to Disneyland, strollers are the bane of one's very existence. But when you are stuck behind a group of five adults walking abreast slowly and one is pushing a stroller with a child who would be equally stimulated by the aisles of Toys-R-Us, What the hell is wrong with you people? It's crowded enough as is!!

But - it was evident by our trip that Patrick loved it. By virtue of timing and judicious use of the FastPass program, we rode California Screamin' five times today. He adores Space Mountain and the Matterhorn Bobsleds. He was patient in explaining to me how they used computers to make the ghosts in the Haunted Mansion (which still remains my favorite to this day). Unfortunately, he still whines for souvenirs - what kid doesn't - but I managed to keep costs down with a Buzz Lightyear souvenir cup, a glow light saber, a Buzz Lightyear space gun, and a Pirates-themed set of ears. I mean, sometimes as a parent you have to say, "Yes," because who wants to go through childhood always having an idea shot down. So today Patrick's breakfast was a Mickey Mouse cookie, a bag of Doritos, and apple juice - so what?

As for me, aw, it was just enough to be able to have fun with my kid and see something like that through his eyes. Although I have to tell my husband that I'm leaving him . . . I've met someone else, someone who brings out the goofy side of me, as the picture below shows (and yes, those are my own Jack Skellington ears on which I had "Mom" stitched in the back) . . .

Actually, I admit, I was playing around with all sorts in the park . . .

C'mon, my birthday is coming up and let's just say I am not looking forward to 40. I still gotta be able to keep up with my kids and be able to have some fun with them - that's what I get for starting late in life.

Another Belt Towards the Goal

The Digikids and I hit another mark and got our orange belts in Tae Kwan Do. Thank you, St. Andrew Kim Taegon for your prayers!

That's us and our instructor, R.J. Myung - the dojang, USA Hapkido Tae Kwan Do Center, is loctaed in Tustin, CA and it's a super place.

Six-Word Memoir Meme

Amy over at Modern Commentaries tagged me for this one. The idea is to write a memoir of your life in just six words - a handy exercise if you plan, as I do, to have something more on your tombstone than just a name and dates.

So, assuming the lights have gone out, the Reaper has come a-callin', the final bucket has been kicked and I have signed the escrow papers on the farm, here goes:

NO MULLIGANS, I AM GOING HOME.

We are supposed to tag people but I invite any and all to post their own in my comments box.

Obscure Music Friday

I've got a 70's groove going - and nothing says disco fever more than these songs:



Song: Night Fever
Artist: The Bee-Gees
Why I Like This Video: One word . . . turtlenecks!



Song: Last Dance
Artist: Donna Summer
Why I Like This Song: My husband pointed out to me that every good disco song had a slow introduction to give you time to find a dance partner before the beat picked up. This is a perfect example of that accommodation. The brother in the gold lame shirt is priceless in this video!



Song: Do the Hustle
Artist: Van McCoy
Why I Like This Video: OMG, OMG, OMG - check out the dancing in this one!

That 70's Look

Okay, Kit, we're having too much fun with what to wear to a 70's themed parish family dance! I have been reading the comments below regarding the Cash Bash at St. Joseph's and let's face it, the 70's were HOT for fashion.

Must-Haves for the DigiHusband

1. Porn Start Moustache

2. Puka shells

3. Lapels as wide as the Mississippi

4. Tight, tight, TIGHT Gabardine pants

5. A vest
6. Platform shoes or, alternatively, Dingo boots

Must-Haves for Me

1. "Feathered" hair or set it using washed out, empty frozen orange juice cans
2. A halter neck on my top or dress
3. Huge bangle earrings
4. Blue eyeshadow and lots of it
5. "Babe" cologne liberally applied
6. Platform shoes

Now, that's a disco look and nothing worn can be made of natural fiber. If I'm just planning to have my outfit scream "70's!", there is so much more I can do:

-- Guacho pants with high boots
-- Tube socks! Tube top! Tubular Bells!
-- Shorty-short running shorts on men
-- Satin leisure suits
-- Vintage rock concert t-shirt featuring Kiss, or Peter Frampton, Ziggy Stardust, or the Bee Gees
-- Rainbow suspenders
-- Earth shoes
-- Painters' pants
-- Any piece of clothing with glitter
-- Denim jeans ripped out and converted into a skirt or purse
-- Pea coats
-- Starky & Hutch cardigan
-- Corduroy pants that you can hear coming

What did YOU wear?

Update on Memorial for Maj. Stuart Wolfer

A memorial service for Maj. Stuart Wolfer, US Army, will be held at Loyola Law School in downtown Los Angeles on Tuesday, April 22, 2008 at 6:30 p.m. The service will take place in the Rose Garden on campus. As you have read on this blog, Stu was serving in Iraq when he was killed on April 6, 2008.

Loyola Law School is located at 919 Albany Street, off of Olympic Boulevard, about 1/2 mile west of the Harbor Freeway. The school has a parking structure that should be used as the surrounding neighborhood can be rough.

The director of alumni affairs, Carmen Ramirez, would like an RSVP from anyone who plans on attending as there will be a reception afterwards. She can be reached at Carmen.Ramirez@lls.edu. Although this is a memorial planned for those in our graduating Class of 2002, everyone is welcome to attend.

Pope's Address to Bishops

I had been hoping it would have been a lot more succinct . . . like His Holiness simply walking through their midst, pointing to some and saying, "You're fired."

Cash Bash

Woo-hoo! It's the annual St. Joseph School Cash bash fundraiser and this year we are combining it with a dance for the entire family - WITH A 70'S THEME! Okay, okay, as someone who graduated Class of '78 from Cardinal Spellman HS in the Bronx, that has me stoked! I must find the right outfit - with NO natural fibers used, natch - and some high, high, HIGH platform shoes!

Waiting on word as to whether my poster is approved, but I figured I would post my beta-copy here here (I enjoy my work as the official Ministry of Photoshop for the parish and school - as soon as it's "blessed", I'll send it to our official Webmaster Supreme, aka, "Big Brother").

Are We Ringing Them Bells?

To anyone who might know out there - are any of the parishes of the Diocese of Orange in Southern California going to ring their bells tomorrow at 1:00 p.m. PST to coincide with His Holiness' arrival on the East Coast at 4:00 p.m. EST?

C'mon! Bishop Brown will be in New York to escort the 125 lucky parishioners of Our Lady of La Vang who scored 125 of the 200 tickets to the Papal Mass given to the diocese. Let's make a deal - he won't know because no one will tell him!

Must I climb the belltower of St. Joseph's myself?!?!

Thank You, Centavo Malo

Dante at the Arbor Dog Park in Seal Beach

April 13, 2008

I did not get the chance to finish this post below, but I would like to make a statement about what a good friend I have in Fr. John Moneypenny.

As visitors to this blog know, Dante has been staying with me while Fr. John was in Italy and has become a regular fixture at my house, whether for playdates with my own dog, Josie, or even before we got Josie and I would go by and pick up Dante for trips to the dog park (a great stress reliever for me). Although we are a small parish in physical size of the church, we presently have nearly 4,000 registered families at St. Joseph and that has kept its pastor very, very busy - and unable to make a trip to the dog park himself, so the chance to take Dante for an outing was a win-win-win situation (a win for Fr. John, a win for me, and a win for Dante).

On Easter Sunday, Fr. John dropped off Dante at my house as he would be staying with us while Fr. John went to Italy. As Fr. John told me, it was sitting in our backyard and watching the two dogs play that he began to think that maybe Dante would be happier in our home. And after coming back from Italy, and some long thoughts, and seeing pictures of Dante with Josie at the dog park and beach, Fr. John graciously extended the invitation to me to keep Dante.

Of course, how could I say no, especially since I have grown accustomed to my daily walks with Puppy Girl and Teddy Bear Boy as I nauseatingly call the two pups. But I would like to make some points:

1. Dante will still carry the surname "Moneypenny" because (a) I am not in the practice of giving my dogs my surname and (b) the name Dante Moneypenny sounds quirky and fun.

2. Dante will still be the "official" parish dog for St. Joseph Church and yes, Ladies of the Parish Staff, I will bring him by for occasional visits. However, I think it would be nice if Josie became the "co-official" parish dog as she is named for our patron.

3. Anytime Fr. John wants to visit with Dante, the welcome mat is out. But then, having become a good friend of our family, the welcome mat is always out for Fr. John.

4. I do not think Fr. John knows how much I appreciate his offer and what it means to me to have this dog. I have always loved dogs and this guy has earned a special place in my heart. Thank you.

Color Blind

When I first moved to the West Coast, the importance that people placed on race and ethnicity amused me. I noticed that people were more conscious of identifying others by their heritage or their neighborhoods by the predominant group within the area. When my husband and I first bought our home in Santa Ana, people said we were "brave" for buying in a "Mexican area."

I grew up in New York City, which is arguably one of the most "diverse" cities in the world. Yes, we used such "identifiers" - Harlem was a Black neighbrohood, Astoria was a Greek area, Howard Beach belonged to the Italians. And their was racial and ethnic strife. But at the same time, it seems to me that the level of meaning was shallower in New York. Let me give an example - if someone asked me, "Tell me about so-and-so" I would say, "Well, he's a Black guy . . .", In New York that was about all that I meant and what the listener understood. In contrast, I find people on the West Coast automatically assign a lot more to that statement - oh, then it must mean he's a Democrat, and that he listens to jazz, and that he is supporting Barack Obama, and he does not dress conservatively, and plays basketball well. Back in the Bronx, it meant simply, myeh, he's Black.

I'll limit my observations to what I experienced growing up in the Bronx. Maybe down in Manhattan it was different. In the outer boroughs of the city - a place where few visitors frequent - maybe it was supported by the subconscious thought of well, we're all in this same sh*thole together that fostered this "lack of appreciation", if you will, for "celebrating diversity."

What brought this musing on? I was looking at pictures I took of my son's first grade class, singing a song at last Friday's school Mass. When I first looked at it, I thought, "Oh, okay, there's so-and-so's kid, and there's that girl, etc." But then I noticed the faces and thought, as if these kids gave a damn, all they know is that they're standing next to their friend, following Mrs. Aguilera as she leads them through this song, and they are completely unaware of each other's race or ethnicity . . . they're just kids getting through the first grade together. The Los Angeles Times has not told them yet what to assume about what Mexicans mean to the future of Los Angeles, or studies of how Asian children perform in school, or why the Black community suffers from the lack of paternal role models.

At that time the disciples approached Jesus and said, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, "Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me. "Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.

Matthew 18:1-6

Thank You, Centavo Malo (Initial Post)

If a friend gave me a great gift, such as a Standard Schnauzer that goes by the name Dante, what would be an appropriate "thank you" present? I invite your suggestions.

Walter, no snarky remarks . . . ;-)

Obscure Music Friday

I did not know this morning if I wanted to do my usual Friday post, given the loss of my classmate. However, I thought about it and came to a decision. This song is not obscure, but it is one that has always touched me, and now its lyrics carry a special note . . . this one's for you, Stu.

Pray For a Fallen Troop, Major Stuart Wolfer

Update: if any of my classmates from Loyola Law School in Los Angeles come across this, please be advised that a memorial service for Stu will take place at 6:30 p.m. on April 22nd, 2008, at the law school.

I was heartbroken this morning to receive a email from a buddy of mine with whom I attended Loyola Law School. The email brought me the sad news of the death in Iraq of Major Stuart Wolfer, US Army.

To quote the title of a book of the Great Depression, now let us praise famous men. Stuart was a fellow student with us at Loyola Law School in the evening division. He was bright, witty and absolutely charming. Most of us in the evening division worked full-time jobs during the day and Stuart was no exception. He was a salesman, and I remember one holiday time he used his spare time between classes to sign personally over a hundred Christmas cards for his customer base, each with a little notation.

He and his wife bought a farm in Idaho and he told me it was a veritable paradise, with elk migrating across his back 40. He planned to buy a country law practice from a retiring lawyer and wanted to live a peaceful life in rural Idaho with his wife and what he hoped would be at least - at least! - six kids. He joked that with a family that large, the locals would probably think they were Mormon when, in fact, he quietly and devoutly practiced his Jewish faith.

And with all of those kids, he wanted at least half to be adopted, because Stuart felt every child deserved to be loved, regardless of their origins.

He was an Army reservist and was very, very proud of his role as a soldier. When the time came for him to be called up, he went. There was a job to be done.

Stuart Wolfer - with all of the nuance given to this word, he was truly a mensch. He loved his God, his family, and his country.

From the script of the movie, Patton. General Patton is speaking of a young aide-de-camp of his, Captain Richard Jensen, who fell in battle. I dedicate the same to Stuart:

He was a fine man . . . and a fine officer. And he had no vices. I shall miss him a lot. I can't see the reason why such fine young men get killed. There are so many battles left to fight.

Eternal rest grant him, oh Lord, let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul and all the souls of the dearly departed rest in peace. Amen. (+)

Guaranteed Cure for the Blues

Just last September, both Karen over at Gem of the Ocean and I were blogging about devastating fires that swept through Southern California. Today my daughter and I decided to grab the two hounds and take a hike in a regional park - Peters Canyon - that was very near the burn area but fortunately came through unscathed.

It was a good day to hike, given the Gospel reading today. The story of the road to Emmaeus is one of my favorites and so often when I experience something that I feel makes me conscious of Christ's presence, I think to myself, was not my heart on fire? Emmaeus - the ultimate road trip. In honor, then, a day's journey along a trail, heading through ridges of sage brush and forests of eucalyptus and oak, with wind and sun on the face, as if He was lovingly stroking it and reminding me, you will know Me in the breaking of the bread.

At the end of the hike - after about some two hours - the satisfaction of exercise and a drive home with a tired, but happy, child and a twin chorus of canine snores coming from the far back of the car. I had only thought of bringing Dante, but Kate insisted we also bring Josie and once again, the puppy proved her mettle. Katie is the type of girl who thinks tent-camping is fun and scaling a fish she caught herself to be enjoyment, so when I suggested a hike today, she was game immediately. She getting too old for the Indian Princess program, so she has begun Girl Scouts at St. Joseph. I just hope they realize she would want to complete badegs in things like fishing, target shooting,a nd taxidermy.

I don't photograph well, but I wanted this picture to print and place on my desk. I am happiest when I am with my family, among whom I count the four-legged members as well. Little girls, I notice, tend to fall in love with horses, or cats, or dogs. I fall in that last category - there are few times in my life I have been without a dog and they have always held a special place in my heart.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Warning: the following post contains profanity, which has been left intact. Read at your own risk to whatever personal sensitivity you may have.

The following is an excerpt from an interview with the rapper, DMX:

Are you following the presidential race?

Not at all.

You’re not? You know there’s a Black guy running, Barack Obama and then there’s Hillary Clinton.

His name is Barack?!

Barack Obama, yeah.

Barack?!

Barack.

What the fuck is a Barack?! Barack Obama. Where he from, Africa?

Yeah, his dad is from Kenya.

Barack Obama?

Yeah.

What the fuck?! That ain’t no fuckin’ name, yo. That ain’t that nigga’s name. You can’t be serious. Barack Obama. Get the fuck outta here.

You’re telling me you haven’t heard about him before.

I ain’t really paying much attention.

I mean, it’s pretty big if a Black…

Wow, Barack! The nigga’s name is Barack. Barack? Nigga named Barack Obama. What the fuck, man?! Is he serious? That ain’t his fuckin’ name. Ima tell this nigga when I see him, “Stop that bullshit. Stop that bullshit” [laughs] “That ain’t your fuckin’ name.” Your momma ain’t name you no damn Barack.

So you’re not following the race. You can’t vote right?

Nope.

Is that why you’re not following it?

No, because it’s just—it doesn’t matter. They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do. It doesn’t really make a difference. These are the last years.

But it would be pretty big if we had a first Black president. That would be huge.

I mean, I guess…. What, they gon’ give a dog a bone? There you go. Ooh, we have a Black president now. They should’ve done that shit a long time ago, we wouldn’t be in the fuckin’ position we in now. With world war coming up right now. They done fucked this shit up then give it to the Black people, “Here you take it. Take my mess.”

Dog Day Afternoon

That Darn Tara . . .

Her priest may call her the Tara-ist, but I think I will use the moniker "Nurse Ratched" instead[1], as she gets what she wants, whether from Husband, Priest or even, God! So, if she wants me to do a meme, I gotta comply . . .

Write 7 non-important things/habit/quirks about yourself:

1. When I am barefoot, I always walk on my tippy-toes.

2. I cannot sleep with socks on, but I place them under the blanket in bed, always then remarking to my husband, "You know, it's an old Army trick . . ."

3. I say the Sign of the Cross in Polish when I cross myself, in memory of my grandparents.

4. I separate colored candy, such as M&Ms and jelly beans, into groupings by color and eat one color at a time.

5. I can't stand sugar in my coffee or milk on cold cereal.

6. I have never touched a fish.

7. I once had a pet garter snake named "Solar Prestige A Gammon." If you can identify the source of the name without Googling it, I will be impressed.

7 Favorite Blogs:

C'mon, I got a slew of them on my blogroll! I will not play favorites.

[1] Tara is in no way anywhere as nasty as the character with the same name, but in reality is a lovely and gracious woman. Plus, she likes corgis.

Obscure Music Friday

Song: Birdhouse in Your Soul

Artist: They Might Be Giants

Why I Like It: Because it's sweet - and the line about "countless screaming Argonauts" has always cracked me up.

I Would Open A Vein If I Had to Go to Something Like This

I got this tidbit in my Loyola Law School Alumni Newsletter. I emphasized the words that made me realize, I would sit through a friggin' marathon performance of Cats again before I went to an event like this:

PROFESSOR YXTA MAYA MURRAY TO HOST SECOND ANNUAL BACCHANAL

Alumni are invited to attend the Second Annual Bacchanal on the Loyola Marymount University campus in Westchester on Saturday, May 17 beginning at 5:00 pm. This woman-centered event (to which all are welcome) is part fund-raiser, part potluck rave, the bacchanal will be a place to gather together in community and enjoy the performance art of Maria Elena Gaitan (aka L.A.'s "Chola con Cello," who does spoken-word performance accompanied by string instruments) and the world-beat band Yeh Dede. For those so inclined, donations will be accepted for an Ethiopian women's health clinic called the Kembatta Women's Self Help Center. If you wish to receive an invitation, please email Professor Murray at mailto:Murray@lls.edu.

Okay, just what is a "potluck rave"? Does it mean BYOE - Bring Your Own Ecstasy? Any man who would attend this fete risks emasculation.

Just FYI, Professor Murray was my Crim Law professor who felt it necessary to announce to my class on the first day that we needed to know she is a Latino feminist. Now, why I needed to know a tidbit of s**t like that with respect to Crim Law I will never know, but she remains one of two professors at Loyola I called Waste of Tenure.

I Want This Job

Son Offers $14 an Hour for a Drinking Buddy for His Dad

This actually sounds delightful!

Another Sports Musing

I think women generally don't like football because it is too difficult to understand for them and they can't grasp how points are awarded. Versus baseball which is clearer on how to win the game and every runner in equals one point. Plus, I think few women can listen to a sports game on the radio and know what is going on.

Yeah, you may be an exception, but c'mon - women do better watching things like figure skating and synchronized swimming which, IMHO, aren't even sports. They're just thinly disguised dancing, albeit in a unique environment. Which blows.

That Darn Kit . . .

. . . tagged me for a meme!

Rules:
1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.

2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.

3. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Then their head explodes.

Without further ado . . .

1. What was I doing ten years ago?

Well, that was April 1998, which meant the Digidaughter was fast approaching her first birthday. Ah yes, I was working a project in Portland as an IT consultant and I quit it to help my Husband deal with his mother. My beloved mother-in-law had been diagnosed with cancer and he was driving back and forth between the OC and San Diego to care for her. Her cancer went into remission later that year for a few months, then came roaring back with a vengeance. Mary died in September 1999.

2. Five Things On My To Do List

-- Run the bulls in Tecate

-- Make it to black belt in both Tae Kwon Do and Hapkido

-- Housebreak a corgi

-- Take a week seminar at the National Institute of Trial Advocacy

-- Get to confession

3. Favorite Snacks

Rice or tapioca pudding; yogurt parfaits; navel oranges; pistachios in shell; hard sourdough pretzels.

4. Things I Would Do If I Were a Billionaire

Establish trusts for my kids so their future is taken care of. My biggest concern with having so much money is the proper administration of it. For that, I would call Glenn Mehner of Duckworth & Mehner here in Southern California and hire Steve Trella to start drafting probate docs.

Buy my Ma her own place and hire a driver for her to take her wherever her heart desires. If she wants something back East and out here, she can have both. If she wants her driver to drive her around America in an RV so she can see the country, I will make it happen.

Restore St. Joseph Church and School. This would include installing a state-of-the-art HVAC system, with the proviso that at the end of August, a special Mass for my intentions is said where the AC is cranked so high, the parishioners have to wear parkas to Mass. And there would be a scholarship fund established at the school. How friggin' cool it would be to say, John and Brad, give me your wish lists and it's done . . .

Buy a top-of-the-line Canon digital SLR camera. And stuff to go with it. And I would take photography courses and become a freelance photographer.

I would go back and reimburse every client I had who paid their bill 100% of their attorney fees. Why the hell not?

5. Three of My Bad Habits

-- Biting the skin on my lips when they are already dry

-- Cussing like a sailor

-- Lead foot while driving

6. Five Places I Have Lived

-- The Bronx

-- Ft. Sill, OK

-- Bienne, Switzerland

-- Irvine, CA

-- San Antonio, TX

7. Five Jobs I Have Had

-- Short order cook

-- Soldier

-- Puppy salesperson

-- Lawyer

-- Retail clerk in an Army & Navy Store (God bless you, Ma Buck and Her Boys at Perry Avenue and Two-Fourth Street)

I am terrible at tagging. Tara, Mike the Brother-in-Law, Kasia, go ahead and take a turn.

Random Thoughts on Baseball

While at lunch today with my colleague, La Cubana, we watched a tape in the cafe from yesterday's opening day at Dodger Stadium. Mariana had attended the game, and we traded some random thoughts on baseball, and some popped up later as I was driving home:

• You should be shot if you can't take your hat off during the national anthem. If you are sitting near me, I will say something.
• Is it me or are the Giants irrelevant?
• There was a guy sitting behind home plate with a four-year-old. White yuppy scum. You want to teach your son something about life, take him up to the nosebleed seats. He's not going to learn anything in seats comped by your company, lily-ass.
• Zito? $126 million? Ask for the money back.
• The main cash cow for Caribbean nations is not tourism. It is the manufacture of baseball players.
• Dominican players have some of the best "funky hand jive" Signs of the Cross before batting. What do Jewish players do after a good play? All Christian players have that option of pointing one finger skyward.
• What possesses guys to walk the batter when there is a man already sitting on second?
• People who don't think it is fun to go to a ball game need psychotherapy. Or a beer.
• Joe Torre has only one look for his face but it works for me. God loves ya, Joe Torre!
• I will weep when Yankee Stadium comes down. I am tearing up now thinking about it.
• You can keep the cracker jack. But make sure I have a beer, a dog, and some peanuts. Make that two beers. I like a good draft for evening games, but a sunny afternoon game demands a lager.
• Hey, ump, you're missing a great game!
• I want Derek Jeter's love child. I am honest about it and yes, my husband knows. But my priest doesn't, so keep it quiet.
• If you think you're too sophisticated to stand up at the 7th inning stretch and sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" - go home, jackhole.
• Juan Pierre - his father was a Frog, his mother a long-legged chola from Chavez Ravine.
• Ump, kick your dog!
• I love gettin' jiggy with Figgy.
• Mariana: if she won the lottery, she would get a tricked-out RV and spend a season driving to every MLB stadium, then winding it all up in Cooperstown, NY.
• Did anyone else cry when James Earl Jones walked happily into the corn? Who wouldn't want to end their life like that!
• If you're 9 years old, you can wear the complete team uniform to the game. If you're 39 years old, it's creepy, okay? And don't sit near me.
• If you go to Wrigley Field, sit in the outfield seats, just to listen to them keep score.

Got anything YOU want to add?